Dread
by KMFiredancer
Summary: The final scene of the romance between Lavellan and Solas, from Solas's perspective. Lavellan learns the truth of her Vallislin tattoos, which were traditionally used by the Dalish to honour their Gods. Solas "frees" her, but at what cost? Edit: My Inquisitor is a Dalish Mage, named Luna. I left it somewhat open, but her description is there. Make of that what you will!


Our beloved Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste and emma vhenan stood before me, bitter tears rolling slowly down her cheeks; her beautiful blue eyes red and glossy from her tears. "I'm sorry," I said gently. I knew the words were little consolation compared to what I'd told her just moments before. Her hands went to her face, wiping her tears and touching the lines of the blue tree that covered her face. Slowly and sadly, she sighed, bringing her arms back down to her sides. "We try to preserve our culture… and this is what we keep?" She looked up at me sadly, and another pang of guilt wracked through me as I stared into her broken eyes. This girl was First of her Keeper; the knowledge that everything they knew, everything she spent her life studying was wrong shook her considerably. I knew it would, but it made it no easier. "Relics of the time when we were no better than Tevinter?" I can practically feel her inner turmoil and it practically tears me apart to hear it, but I steel myself; I must.

"Don't say that," It's a wonder I can come up with the words to console her, for the trouble my revelation brought her. "For all they got wrong, the Dalish did one thing right… They made you." Her already flushed cheeks darkened in her obvious embarrassment. She was so perfect; her long, wispy white hair caught in the breeze and her eyes sparkled like moonlight atop the water. Each time I looked at her, from the time I saw her and her vallaslin, I wanted her free. She was too beautiful, too kind and strong willed to be tainted by the marks of their so-called Gods. She exceeded everything I had thought she could be; she showed kindness and compassion to everyone if she saw even a glimmer of hope for them, from spirits to warriors, she resolved to solve conflict as non-violently as possible where many would leave a pool of innocent blood in their wake. She deserves every bit of freedom I can afford her. "I didn't tell you this to hurt you," I assured her gently, and her irises flitted toward the ground before looking back to meet my own eyes. "If you like, I know a spell." Her eyes looked toward the ground again; she was listening to me but she was afraid of what I had to say next; I did not know whether it was because she knew she would accept and she felt bound to her people, or whether she was afraid to accept the truth. "I can remove the vallaslin." She thought for a bit on the matter, not daring to look at me until she came to her conclusion.

"..If what you're saying is true—"

"It is," I assured.

"Then…" A look of determination, the one I was so very used to seeing came across her features and her eyes gleamed with beautiful justice. "My people vowed never to submit to slavery."

"I'm so sorry for causing you pain, it was selfish of me." Despite my sadness for hurting her with the news, I felt my lips curl into a smile as I took her hands gently. "When I look at you, I see what you truly are… And you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent." I explained, though I knew her mind was made up from the moment she looked back at me.

"Then cast your spell," She said, unthinkingly. "Take the vallaslin away." The look of determination that came across her face was nothing less than enchanting.

"Sit," I bade with a gesture of my hand, a smile still sitting plainly on my face as I put a hand on her gently to guide her. She nodded, taking a seat on the ground nearby and I knelt before her. Tenderly, looked into her beautiful eyes while I cast my spell, running my hands through her hair once I finished. I whispered something to her in Elvish and the beautiful, warm smile graced her face once again; the loving gaze I received from her was better than I could have hoped for. "You are so beautiful," I whispered, and before I could stop myself, I leaned in to kiss her, holding one of her hands in one of my own, while placing my other hand gently on her backside, while her other hand rested upon my chest. Passion and regret filled me at once, more so once the kiss was broken and her beautiful blue eyes stared worriedly into mine. I braced myself, resolving to do what I had brought her here to do. "And… I am sorry," I said, looking into her eyes. "I have distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again," I regretted staring her in the eyes as I said this; it felt as though a cold dagger had stabbed me through the mid-section, twisting and bringing blossoming warmth of pain with it. Her eyes darted around as she desperately searched my face for an answer that I could not give her.

"Solas…" She whispered in disbelief, grief plainly visible on her lovely face. She was still close to me, and I slowly pulled myself away.

"_Please,_ vhenan…" I urged. She was scared, upset and confused. I could not blame her. I had been a fool to do this to her to begin with - to allow her to love me as truly as she did, only to end it so suddenly.

"Solas… Don't leave me," Her voice faltered and cracked as the grief threatened to strangle her. "Not now." She came toward me desperately, her eyes filled up again with tears, tears that I caused her, that should never have touched her lovely face. "I love you." She said firmly, her eyes still managing to hold onto that determined gleam she always had, though it began to flicker. I swallowed, shaking my head slowly and stepping away again.

"You have a rare and marvellous spirit, in another world…" She approached me again, her eyes were desperate for answers, desperate to change my mind, anything I could spare; but I could spare nothing. I could not afford to change my mind—she could not afford for me to change it.

"Why not this one?" She asked desperately. I put my hands in front of me as I stepped away from her; I couldn't provide even the closure she needed.

"I… Can't." I said slowly, shaking my head again sadly. I turned away from her and began to walk away; I felt her slender hand lightly try to grasp my shirt to make me stay, to change my mind, but I kept walking firmly, faintly hearing something hit the ground behind me. A choked sob almost bade me to turn around, but I couldn't.

I told her she deserved to be free—free from those tattoos that their so-called Gods forced upon them, and free especially from me.

I am no mortal man—Like the Gods of the Dales, I cannot and will not have her.

She must be free, even if I must tear out my own heart to do it.


End file.
